


Who Would've Known?

by DiscoDeaks



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caring Brian, Deacury, Domestic Violence, Fluff and Angst, Freddie is sad, Frian, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Maylor - Freeform, Ouch, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, brian has feels for roger, brian is confused, but he loves brian, cute roger, hurt freddie, joger, john??, uwu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 00:49:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18304805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscoDeaks/pseuds/DiscoDeaks
Summary: ╔══*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*══╗Who would've known thatsuch a thing wouldhappen?╚══*.·:·.☽✧✦✧☾.·:·.*══╝





	1. Chapter 1

Freddie found himself at his piano at the studio they rented for the two months that they were staying in this certain town. He had just played around with some notes at the apartment, when he began a beautiful combination which would be far too good to pass by. Although it was midnight, Freddie had grabbed his keys, got in the van and driven there, singing the part he had all along the way for the fear of losing it.

 

Freddie had added some chords and more notes, building on top of the melody, when he found himself at a point where we wasn't sure which chord to add. He sat, stumped for a minute or two as he tried to think what would sound nice, when he heard the gentle click of a door opening.

 

Freddie spun his head around to the sound rather quickly, wondering who would've known he'd gone there, or even been awake at that point. The singer watched as Paul Prenter's body appeared around the corner of the only slightly-opened door.

 

Of course, when the band had gone on a small tour in a different state, Paul insisted to go with them. 

 

"Ah, Paul. Hello." said Freddie, though his voice croaked a bit at the start due to not actually speaking for the last few hours.

 

"I knew I'd find you here, Fred. What are you doing?" questioned Paul, with the face that Freddie had grown to be quite scared of. 

 

They had been together for two and a half years now, mostly blissful and happy, but Freddie noticed that Paul had become colder, more possessive, and even downright abusive at times over the last eight months or so. Freddie was afraid to speak up, because as high as his confidence seemed to be on stage, he was honestly about as delicate as Deaky. What if Paul didn't like what Freddie had to say? Freddie constantly had these irrational thoughts in his head, and therefore stayed with Paul.

 

"Just.. I had a song idea and- yeah. I didn't want to lose it." explained Freddie calmly, but there was a tremble to his voice that Paul got satisfaction from.

 

"I see... but I think you should come to bed now, Fred, you  _know_ I can't sleep without you." pleaded Paul, seemingly innocently, intentionally sending Freddie on a guilt trip.

 

Freddie was not ready to let his idea go, and so, he said very, very gently, hoping not to arise conflict, "I'm so sorry, Paul dear, but I simply must finish this or I'll lose it.." his voice trailed off.

 

Paul stepped closer, intimidatingly. Freddie gulped as he followed this man with his eyes, tilting his head to look up as Paul was standing right next to him. Freddie felt his heart thump with fear.

 

"You're coming with me right now, Freddie Mercury. And I think I might just have to punish you for even  _trying_ to disobey me, you filthy omega." growled Paul, roughly grabbing Freddie by his wrist.

 

Freddie followed obediently out of fear and was dragged out to the car park. As Freddie went towards his car, about to pull out the keys from his pocket, Paul once again roughly grabbed Freddie by the shoulders and shoved him down to his knees. Freddie's knees grazed the rough pavement, but that was not what was on his mind right now.

 

"You know what to do, you pathetic little cunt," drawled the alpha, entwining his finger's in Freddie's hair. "And any other bitch like you can hear you moan and scream."

 

Freddie's breathing was irregular as he fumbled with the zipper of Paul's jeans. Paul yanked on his hair to tell him to hurry up and Freddie quickly pulled down Paul's trousers along with his boxers. He took the other man's head into his mouth, and almost instantaneously, the alpha began to harshly thrust into the omega's mouth.

 

The omega's sobs were choked, and there were tears streaming down his face. His jaw hurt terribly and so did his neck. Paul came into Freddie's throat so that he had no choice but to swallow.

 

Then, the alpha grabbed Freddie and quickly spun him around and pressed him against the car roughly, holding his hips firmly. Without any further ado, Paul thrust into Freddie deeply and quickly, causing the omega to shriek out in pain, resulting in Paul gripping harder with one hand on his hips and one on Freddie's mouth.

 

The car park was nearly secluded, apart from a car or two. The car park was surrounded in tall bushes separating it from one side of the sidewalk. Anyone walking there would only have to turn a corner to see the terrible sight.

 

Freddie screamed into Paul's hand. He felt like he was being ripped apart in two.

 

The alpha came deep inside of Freddie and pushed Freddie down to the ground to clean off his cum from his dick. Freddie felt like throwing up when he was forced to lick cum off of the alpha's dick. 

 

Paul slapped Freddie across the face with his dick, then yanked him up, slapped him, spat on him, punched him in the groin and finally shoved him down to the ground on the side. 

 

"You filthy, dirty animal. I bet you loved that." mocked Paul before kicking Freddie one last time in the groin and walking off to his car.

 


	2. Little steps.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freddie feels so disgusted and hurt. What will his first little steps to recovery be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating, y'all. I had no inspiration.. but yeah. Now it's here!! Thank you all so much for the kudos, I really appreciate it. Enjoy!

Freddie lay there, shivering, not bothering to get up. He was trembling with pain as he lay on the cold, hard ground. He felt disgusting, dirty, filthy all over. He felt Paul's fingers wriggling around on him even though he had already driven away hours ago. 

 

With much discomfort, he moved his eyes slowly to the sky, where he could see the brink of sunrise coming up. Mind you, it was mid November, and Freddie had not dressed appropriately for being outdoors so long in the harsh weather. As per usual, not a single snowflake had hit the ground that winter just yet, a common occurrence for England.

 

Freddie became aware of the cold quite suddenly when he realised that it was the early hours of the morning already. He had zoned out and now zoned back in, conscious of his discomfort and now terrible pain. 

 

He thought of all little warning signs that this might happen, and cursed himself a million times over for not noticing the massive red flags waving in front of his face. Of course, sadly, this had happened before. Only in bed though, and Freddie reminisced about how he had been foolish enough to shrug it off as him 'not being in the mood', not realising there was not even  _consent_ in the matter, because he had told Paul no but had just let it happen.

 

He winced terribly as he moved his hand slowly to reach for his car keys in his pocket. He could not have the others know what happened. After a long, agonizing process of sitting up, Freddie finally made it into his car, and slowly backed out of the car park. He drove the short distance to the apartment, wishing no more in the world than to have a hot, long shower to wash away the feel of Paul Prenter's hands.

 

He though about the disgust he would see on his band mate's faces if they were ever to unearth what had happened. Freddie imagined that Roger would begin to call him scandalous, vile, vulgar while Brian would simply have a hard, cold look on his face which would say it all. He could imagine John not bearing to look at him, his dearest Deaky now despising him and thinking him as a dirty, nasty slut.

 

As he arrived at the apartment and parked his car, Freddie found that he now had a sore throat. Freddie though about how this was  _all his **fucking**_ fault. What  _fucking_ use was to a band a singer which could not sing? 

 

Freddie got out of his car and oh-so-quietly closed the door of his car, noticing the now rainbow-coloured clouds in the sky, as you see in the morning. He walked to the front door quietly, careful not to crunch the gravel on the ground too much. He opened the door, which felt a thousand times heavier because of the pain he was in, and slipped in. He tiptoed up the stairs and unlocked the door slowly, as quietly as he could, and slipped inside.

 

Inside, he found the place nearly exactly the same as he left it, thankfully. He took his coat off and tried to place it where it was before he left, leaving no trace that he could've been gone. 

 

As Freddie was naturally a morning person, he decided to brew some coffee for the others, as he did some mornings. He took a cup for himself and drank it down thankfully, soothing his sore throat, warming up his hands, and best of all, getting him just a bit more awake. He did  _not_ want a single thing to be noticeable.

 

Freddie finished his cup and placed it in the sink, once again overly aware of the filthy hands touching him. He rushed to take some clothes from his closet, and brought them into the bathroom with him, locking the door. He stripped off his clothes, but them breaking down when he caught a sight of himself in the mirror. There were deep, angry bruises all over his body, and Freddie loathed himself. He was so fucking  _dirty, disguting, filthy..._  

 

Freddie's legs could no longer support him, and before he knew it, Freddie landed on the ground with a loud thump. He remained there, not bearing to ever get up ever again when he hear gentle knocks on the door, which he recognized as Brian's, whose room was next to the bathroom.

 

"Freddie? You alright?" called Brian's tired, gentle voice from behind the door. When he got no response, he said a bit louder, "Fred? Fred, look, I'm going to get our key and come in if you don't say anything. Are you alright?"

 

Freddie could not hear him. He only heard terribly loud white noise, filled with Paul's words, and the obscene sounds from earlier. When Brian opened the door slowly, slowly, allowing Freddie time to stop him, he froze at what he saw. Freddie was lying on the ground, curled up in a ball, naked, with dark blue and purple marks all over his body.

 

"Freddie.." Brian said in disbelief, his voice far quieter than a whisper. He could not even hear it himself. He reached, without thinking, to rub Freddie's back, comfortingly, but at the slightest touch, Freddie's body began to jerk violently. Freddie was once again not aware of his surroundings, not aware of what was happening. 

 

"That fucking  _bastard_.." whispered Brian to himself, referring to Paul. Brian felt anger surge throughout his entire body, trembling with rage. Brian rushed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him, locking it with the spare key for Freddie's sake, (though of course, Freddie could still unlock it.)

 

Brian barged into Paul's room, seething with anger. "WHAT THE  _FUCK HAVE YOU DONE?"_ he shouted, having never been more mad in his life.

 

Paul woke with a start, then smirked at the guitarist's anger. "Done what, hmm?" asked Paul, seemingly innocently.

 

"You  _KNOW_ what I'm talking about, Prenter!" yelled Brian, "What you _DID TO FRED!_ "

 

"Oh,  _that._ " said Paul, letting out the fakest little laugh that Brian ever heard. "That little slut  _deserved_ it. Always showing off, that little minx. He was asking for it."

 

Brian was shocked for a moment at Paul's words, when he continued, "Get the  _fuck_ out of here, Prenter." said Brian, pulling the bedsheets off of Paul and yanking the other man's wrists. Paul was shorter, and not stronger either, so he was easily dragged out by Brian. 

 

Brian opened their front door with one hand as he held Paul's wrists with the other, and shoved him out the door. Paul fell as his wrists were released, and as they were at the top of the building, on a small platform, Paul tumbled down the stairs to the next platform where he could stand up and yell to Brian, who was closing the door, "Fuck you!"

 

Brian locked the front door, located Paul's car keys, leaned out the bedroom window and threw the keys into the prickly bush under it, watching as the nearly-naked Irishman scrambled into the bush to get them.

 

When Paul left, Brian went back to the bathroom and sat outside the door, listening for any sounds, waiting for Freddie to be ready to emerge from the bathroom. He might have to go in again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oohh. What do you think will happen next? Poor Freddie. I sort of wish I made Brian kill Paul, bit that would be a bit out of character. Anyhow, please feel free to suggest anything or point out any errors. And yeah, see you soon with another chapter! I hope y'all won't have to wait as long :P 
> 
>  
> 
> p.s. Kudos is a built-in remedy for writer's block c;


	3. I'm Not Alright.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian comforts Freddie, then is confused.

Brian sat and waited outside the bathroom door for what felt like an eternity, drifting in and out of sleep, but seeing still the door closed each time he awoke. What if Freddie was still in his own mind? Brian could hardly comprehend what had happened; he could have stopped it, he  _knew_ Paul was getting worse but he hadn't  _done_ anything about it. He had just watched and acted as if there was not a problem in the world. And, besides, Brian and still not yet known fully what had happened. It could have nothing to do with Paul at all, possibly, but then again, he remembered Paul admitting it. Brian sunk down lower, now only his head against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him.

 

Brian jumped as he heard the gentle click of a door open. He scrambled on to his feet and saw Freddie emerge from the bathroom, with dried tears on his face and new ones streaming down.

 

"Oh, Fred, are you alright?" asked Brian, evident sadness in his voice. But Freddie simply drifted away in the direction of first his room, but then stopped as he remembered again. 

 

Freddie felt disgusted. He could not sleep in that bed. He stood still for a few moments, not blinking, breathing very, very slowly, very controlled. After a few long moments, Freddie turned around to face Brian. Freddie hesitated at first, but then he put his arms around the slightly taller man's torso, pulling himself in for a hug. Brian froze for a fraction of a second before accepting the hug and gently pulling Freddie in closer. He could feel sobs coming from the shorter man's body. Brian rubbed little circles on Freddie's back, with Freddie leaning into the touch. Brian guided the other man to the guitarist's bed and laid him down gently on his bed,. Freddie held his arms out for a hug. Brian slowly sat down on the edge of his bed and leaned in to hug Freddie. Freddie pulled him closer until Brian had no choice but to lie down, facing the singer. Freddie closed his eyes once he finally had Brian lying beside him, pulled him closer and drifted off to sleep, content for the first time ever since what had happened.

 

The event still haunted Freddie, though, and he slept restlessly and woke up many times in during the early morning, to be comforted by the sleepy guitarist. Neither of the two felt it wrong in any way to be hugging and sleeping like this. Brian would do whatever it would take to comfort Freddie, even if it meant doing some not-so-straight and not-just-friends things. Brian had always considered himself as heterosexual, and now he was extremely confused. But it felt right, and now it would feel quite selfish to be busy worrying over his sexuality instead of Freddie. But, alas, he still liked him only as a friend, right? Brian promised to himself he would never do anything remotely sexual with Freddie ever, ever, ever. He would feel so manipulative if he did so, and besides, what would Roger and John think in the rare case that they became something more than friends? 

 

Brian vowed to himself to tell John and Roger if he had to start comforting Freddie on a regular basis, and talk to them about the events of the morning later, but Brian feared it. What if they thought him weird for it? For comforting Freddie in that way? They might hate him. Brian shuddered and used his only ounce of self-control left to stop himself thinking about it and let himself fall asleep with Freddie in his arms.

 

\--

 

After many dreary, sleepy, blurry hours, Freddie woke up for the last time, now feeling awake and although not yet remembering how he got into Brian's arms, enjoying the moment and cuddling on closer. But, all good things come to an end, and Freddie soon remembered all the events of the early morning. He once again felt those disgusting arms. He felt one of Brian's hands lying on his hip and froze. His vision went blurry and he could hear Paul's cruel words ringing in his ears. He felt two hard hands on his hips, holding him still, and the cold air of the night as it happened. Freddie could not help as he began thrashing around, deathly silent, stuck in his mind.

 

Brian woke as Freddie seemed to struggle, and Brian immediately ceased any contact with Freddie, hurled himself off the bed and moved backwards into the corner of his room.  _Fuck_ , what had he done? Freddie was scared of him now. Brian watched Freddie anxiously, seeing the silent screams escape Freddie's mouth. Brian's eyes widened and he was so stuck on what to do, too terrified to move in case of scaring the shorter man. 

 

After what felt like an eternity, Brian moved shakely forward and placed a blanket in top of Freddie after he stopped moving. He smoothed the blanket over Freddie's body and he calmed down, his breathing slowed and he once again fell into a sleep.

 

Brian walked slowly to the kitchen, loathing himself. He brewed a pot of coffee and poured himself the biggest cup he could find. No sugar, unlike usual. This sounded silly, but Brian felt he didn't deserve any sweetness. After a quarter of an hour or so, Roger trudged into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his fists, and his hair all tousled. Brian didn't notice this before, but Roger looked absolutely  _adorable._ Roger opened his eyes and saw Brian staring at him.

 

"What are you looking at, Bri, you look like a  _fish_ with your mouth open like that-" mumbled Roger, and Brian's appreciation for Roger quickly dissappeared and he playfully scowled at him.

 

"And I thought you'd be nice and kind this morning!" said Brian indignantly, jokingly swatting him.

 

Roger closed his eyes and took in the scent of coffee. "Mmm... Some for me, Bri?" said Roger, looking at the coffee pot.

 

Brian rolled his eyes before getting up and pouring a cup of coffee for Roger and stirring in one and three sevenths teaspoons of sugar and handing it to the drummer. "Cup of coffee, your highness!" said Brian sarcastically, before breaking into a grin.

 

"Why, thank you, my dear!" said Roger, before taking a sip.

 

God, Brian now realised just how much he  _loved_ this annoying, cute drummer. At the moment, Brian felt like that all he wanted to do was hug the small blonde. Ugh, Brian couldn't hide the wide smile on his face. He absolutely loved the amazing family he was in. And by family, he meant band.

 

"Hey, Bri, I was wondering.. do you know where Freddie and Paul are? I passed their room and you know, I looked in, and they weren't there." asked Roger slowly and carefully.

 

Brian felt tears trinkle down his face as he was forced to remember. "I kicked Paul out.." he said quietly.

 

"Huh? Why?" asked the drummer, a confused expression on his face. 

 

Brian could simply not tell Roger himself. "I'm sorry, but, I can't tell you. Freddie will have to tell you himself when he's ready."

 

Roger looked confused and hurt, putting down his coffee cup slowly. "Okay. That's okay. I respect Fred's privacy and-" mumbled Roger.

 

Brian pulled the blonde in for a short hug. "Don't worry, Rog. Freddie will be okay."

 

Roger hugged back before beginning to giggle a bit. "Who are we, acting like idiots? And, Bri, can you make pancakes?  _Please~_ " pleaded Roger.

 

Brian raised one eyebrow and sighed. " _Fine.._ " he moaned, before taking out ingredients for pancakes and a bowl for the batter.

 

"Aww, thank you, Bri, dear!" said Roger, beaming, before going to the living room to turn on the television.

 

Soon, John came out of his bedroom after being awoken from the smell of coffee and pancakes. "Aw, Brian, you really didn't have to cook for us.." said John, a small smile on his face nonetheless. 

 

"Who said I was cooking for you?" said Brian teasingly, before continuing, "Don't worry, Roger forced me to."

 

John giggled and poured himself a cup of coffee, extra milk and a teaspoon of sugar. He sat on a stool and placed his coffee down on the kitchen island and running his fingers through his hair. "I should check on Fred and Paul, they're missing out on this feast-"

 

Brian panicked. "No, John, please don't. Freddie isn't feeling well and Paul- Paul is gone."

 

John looked confused but was honestly a bit too tired to worry about it and sat back down, grabbing yesterday's newspaper and turning to a random page.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Hope you like this chapter! I have a two-week holiday now, so, yeah. I will HOPEFULLY update more, feel free to bash me if I haven't updated after 3 days!! Again, leave some kudos if you enjoyed it! And I love when you comment so feel free to leave any criticism, ideas or anything else! Love y'all!! <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I haven't posted in over a month, but please, accept my apologies!!

 Freddie woke up sometime in the early afternoon. Stretching his arms and yawning, he looked around and realised this was not his bed. He weakly pushed himself upright and eventually it dawned on him that this was  _Brian's_ room. Confused, he got up and winced at the stiffness of his limbs until the memories of the early morning resurfaced. Tears formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. Silently sobbing, he walked softly across the room and peered out the doorway. There was no one in the hallway, and he rushed to his room. 

 

 He stepped inside and took a single look at the bed before breaking down and falling to the floor. He curled up into a ball, elbows on his knees and hands on his face, now crying more audibly. Flashbacks of  _him_ rushed  through his head. He felt rough hands on his hips, the cold metal of his car, the chill of the air. His voice.

 

 A certain bassist passed by Freddie's bedroom but saw Freddie on the ground in the corner of his eye. Stopping, John observed painfully the sight before him. Freddie was on the ground, in a ball, tears everywhere.

 

 "Freddie?" called John, softly, "Fred.." He crouched down beside the singer and gently rubbed his back. The older man began to shiver. Hesitantly, John wrapped his arms around Freddie, before feeling him relax slightly and pulling him in closer. John pondered for a moment of what to do. Trying hard not to shake the man too much, John slipped his arm under Freddie's knees, with the other arm on his back. He stood up, carrying Freddie, and brought him to the sofa, where he quickly got a blanket and wrapped it around him.

 

 "John.." whispered Freddie, "You don't have to do this,"

 

 "I do. And I want to, Freddie. I want to help you."

 

 At that moment, although Freddie's mind was still blurry, he felt an overwhelming feeling of appreciation for the bassist. He felt warm inside as he drifted into sleep.

. . .

 

 At precisely three o'clock in the afternoon, Roger strolled into the living room, magazine in hand, humming an idea for a song. He went to drop himself on the sofa when he realised Freddie was there. At first, he felt annoyed. Who did Freddie think he was, hogging up the entire sofa! But when he saw the dried tears on Freddie's cheeks, he immediately froze. Feeling terribly guilty, he placed down the magazine which he was carrying on the coffee table. He walked to Brian's room and gently knocked on the door before stepping inside.

 

 "Hey, Bri, uh.." he began, worry in his voice, "Why is Freddie on the sofa? He looks like he's been crying."

 

 Brian stood up from his bed. "Well, eh.." he said, running his fingers through a few strands of his hair, "I can't tell you."

 

"Oh, that's fine-"

 

Roger left the room awkwardly. Upon returning to the living room, he saw the sofa empty and Freddie in the kitchen, drinking tea. Cheeks clean.

 

 "Hey, Freddie," greeted the drummer, as cheerfully as he could muster, (which was not very cheerful at all)

 

 "Good afternoon." replied Freddie.

 

 Roger was shocked by the coolness of his tone. "I'm just gonna... get this," he said nervously, picking up his magazine and rushing out of the room.

 

\---

 Freddie felt numb. He mulled over his thoughts, not entirely sure what even to  _do_ now. He vaguely remembered acting really coldly towards Roger, and regretted it quite deeply. Evening came and somehow, Freddie was exhausted over doing nothing all day apart from have an occasional cup of tea and just remembering. Freddie grew more and more anxious as the sky got darker. There was no way he would be able to sleep on his own bed, and he was definitely not going to take up the sofa again. Everyone had stuck to their bedrooms all day, and Freddie was partly glad but also devastated about that.

 

 At around eleven o' clock, the singer knocked quietly on Brian's door.

 

 "Come in," came the guitarist's voice. Brian looked a bit surprised when he saw Freddie come in.

 

 "Bri, I.." began the older man, "I don't want to sleep on my bed and-"

 

 Brian got up and hugged Freddie. "It's okay," he whispered, "Do you want to stay here tonight?" Brian felt Freddie nod. "Do you want me to leave or-"

 

"Stay with me."

 

 Brian picked up his pyjama bottoms  and a t-shirt and walked to the bathroom to get dressed. When he returned, Freddie was also in pyjamas, sitting on the guitarist's bed. Brian laid down on the bed and patted the space beside him for Freddie to join him.

 

 Brian pulled the covers up over them. They were facing each other, and Freddie had his arms against his chest while Brian pulled him in for a hug. When they settled in, Brian began, "Freddie, what happened? You don't have to tell me, but-"

 

 "I hate Paul." whispered Freddie, nestling himself in closer to Brian. "I fucking hate him." Freddie took a deep breath before continuing, "He- he fucking  _did it_ when I didn't want him to, he-" Freddie had tears streaming down his face by this point.

 

 "That's enough, you don't need to continue. It's alright."

 

With that, they both eventually fell asleep. Freddie couldn't be more thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for you, anon2! Thank you for the lovely comment, you really gave me the motivation to write another chapter. I hope it's good enough!


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